Prologue

In was during the middle ages, the most beautiful castle in all of the land resided in the Kingdom of Wales. King Edmund and Queen Francine ruled the land, the Kingdom, and followed by their army of Royal knights, the Round table.

It was nearly noon, Sir Kenneth was patrolling the local town on his trusty steed, Umber. Townspeople were bustling around noisily, doing their everyday activities. A young maiden passed by Sir Kenneth, waving at him elegantly with a smile. He sat up straight, giving her a cheesy grin. He continued on, happening to glance up at the sky, noticing a very large red dragon soaring overhead. The townspeople scattered in all directions, screaming in fear. Sir Kenneth gave chase, following the beast.

He withdrew his crossbow, giving aim at his target. Releasing the arrow, it zoomed towards the dragon, getting stuck dead center of it's wing. It began falling gradually to the Earth, passing some trees, and it hit the ground. Sir Kenneth charged a it with his lance, piercing it's heart, it's life ended. He removed his lance from the corpse, noticing a stream. He hopped off his horse, leading her over to it. She began to drink, as he patted her side. He discarded his lance, leaning it against a nearby tree.

"Good lass, drink up." He said aloud.

He glanced down at the water to see his reflection, he was a shabby looking man with a scruffy beard, and brown hair. His armor was covering his manly biceps and muscular figure. Sir Kenneth looked around suddenly, noticing a faint sound in the distance. Listening hard, he realized it was the sound of a crying infant. He glanced ahead, noticing a basket floating down stream. With a stick, he pulled the basket to him, upon it a note was pinned, it was clearly a women's hand writing. He removed it, and read it aloud.

" To whomever finds this baby boy. Please take care of him and raise him as your own. I am unable to care for the child. You may call him whatever you desire, I didn't want to get attached by naming him. Best regards." Sir Kenneth read.

He was surprised, he didn't know a thing about babies, and unfortunately he didn't have a wife either. Sighing, he knew that he had no idea what he was about to get himself involved in. he could hardly wrap his mind around it.

"What am I going to call you then?" He asked the child.

He glanced around nervously, noticing his lance, and grinned.

"You shall be known as lance." Sir Kenneth stated, as he picked up the child.

He took the child home with him. Over the next eighteen years, Sir Kenneth raised Lance as his own son. When lance was able to comprehend words, Sir Kenneth began to tell him epic tales of Roland, Charlemagne, king Arthur, Percival, and Lancelot. On Lance's tenth birthday, Sir Kenneth took Lance under his wing as a Squire. His training concentrated on strength and skill with various weapons. Whenever Lance was away from school, he would care for Sir Kenneth's horse, Umber, clean the stables, polish Sir Kenneth's armor, and maintain his weapons.